


I Will Survive

by specialfaiths



Category: Torchwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9623288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialfaiths/pseuds/specialfaiths
Summary: And so you're back, from outer-space.A drabble, imagining Jack's return from his travels with the Doctor. Without the blowfish.





	

The flat smelled like half-cooked egg and souring bacon. Trust Weevils to interrupt his good intentions of having a hearty breakfast for once. The egg tray and plastic container of bacon lay open on his kitchen counter next to the stove, abandoned in a rush to race out of the door and to Newtown, where Owen relayed to him a report of a trio of everyone's favourite fanged creatures rooting through rubbish bins. Luckily, Ianto had remembered to turn off the gas stove before grabbing his car keys and coat and swooping through the front door. No, Ianto corrected himself, other people swooped. He _glided_. 

He had taken to keeping Weevil spray in his car and it had come in handy a fair few times now, as he had arrived at the scene long before Owen had, and the only hand the medic had lent was to load the pack into the SUV’s boot. They had all agreed upon Owen keeping the SUV a couple of weeks into Jack’s absence, seeing as he lived near the centre of the city, he was usually the first to respond and arrive wherever they were called to, outside of their normal working hours. Toshiko had half jokingly suggested that she be given Owen’s snazzy little convertible in this case. Owen had laughed rather unnecessarily unkindly at that, Ianto thought.

He sighed, shucked his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to begin the cleanup process. Work never ended. He briefly considered cooking up another egg and some more bacon for supper, but quickly changed his mind and chucked the bacon into the bin as soon as he sniffed the quickly spoiling flesh. He was still rather sensitive to the smell of off meat, even though their little jaunt to the countryside, home of the Cymru cannibals, had been months ago. Shame he didn’t have a dog, he rather disliked wasting food. Soon, the smell of Fairy liquid soap and the sight of a clean pan put him at ease, and as he placed the egg tray back into the fridge he spotted leftover chicken curry takeaway from the night before and decided it would have to do as tonight’s roast as well. Gleefully, he remembered he also had some ice cream in the freezer should the curry not satisfy him. 

Turning on the television, he plonked himself onto the couch, balancing the small plate of curry on its arm, and let his bones settle into a comfortable position. His whole body began to unwind from today’s early start and strenuous afternoon, and let itself laugh along with the audience of a comedy panel show. 

Ianto found himself in an uncommon state of contentedness, and was therefore surprised and startled by the determined knock on his door. Furrowing his brow, he placed his plate onto the coffee table and muted the television. He couldn’t think of anyone who would be dropping by unannounced, and surely they weren’t getting another bout of Mormons. It was 9 o’clock, presumably it was past their bedtime.  
He padded, socks on carpet, towards his front door, a crease still on his brow. Through the patterned coloured glass, he thought he could make out a familiar silhouette, but his brain had not caught up by the time he had opened the door. 

“Hi.”

Ianto found he could neither inhale nor exhale, as he stared at Jack Harkness standing in the Cardiff drizzle on his doorstep, a somewhat sheepish version of his patented grin upon his lips. It was a pathetic greeting, both of them knew, but neither of them could immediately think of a more suitable way to address an abandoned lover left for three months without explanation or indication.

“You have a key.” 

Ianto wasn’t sure if this was more indignant than Jack’s pitiful greeting, but it seemed to hit the right spot, as Jack visibly flinched. 

“I thought it disrespectful.”

“Yes it was.”

Jack looked down, evidently understanding that Ianto was referring to his abrupt disappearance rather than his implied entitled admittance to Ianto’s flat.

The silence dragged on for a few more seconds, Ianto standing in his doorway, his body language suggesting he had no intention of inviting Jack into the dry space of his flat. 

“Well,” Jack’s grin stretched only as far as his cheeks, “I’m back.” his eyes still shone with uncertainty.

“Yes,” Ianto acknowledged, as he stared at the figure in front of him, half expecting the mirage to dissipate should he dare blink. Wouldn’t be the first time. The vocalisation, however, would be.

“Yeah, anyway. I just wanted to,” he hesitated, “forewarn you.”

Ianto couldn’t quite help the quirk of the corner of his mouth. No matter how his departure had hurt, this meekness was rather endearing. He was evidently not quick enough to suppress his emotions, as he saw the hopeful glint in Jack’s eyes. His steely resolve was gradually dampening, like Jack’s hair under the Welsh skies. 

“Right,” Ianto ran his fingers through his own locks, “thank you for that.”

Jack gave him a small nod, and an even smaller smile as he bowed his head and turned to leave. 

“Jack,” Ianto called unexpectedly after him. Jack turned, surprised, clearly unsure of what to expect. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Jack stared at him for a seemingly long while, and his eyes shone with an emotion Ianto had not seen directed at himself before, one he could not identify. “Yes,” he said and smiled at Ianto warmly. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I have written in _years_. Literally. I can just feel the rusty cogs grinding. Hopefully this is decent.


End file.
